


Downpour

by evilwearsabow



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst with happy end, Bond is still an Agent, Coffee Shop, M/M, Q is a barista, coffee AU, fluff and angst and raunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9614966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwearsabow/pseuds/evilwearsabow
Summary: His breath made icicles and when he caught their eye everything was spring and it melted to puddles. Like a blanket of moisture on his cheeks, warmed red with the determination and promise of something more.Something different.Untouchable.He was used to the world slowed in his own perception. Cunning quick decisions in the heat of the moment and so he says."You're pretty, you're smart, and you like good coffee."A scowl thrown his way, "And you don't even like coffee..."(Coffee shop AU that you didn't know you needed.)





	1. Chapter 1

Should he be that surprised? It was an accident that he showed up in the first place. Run of the mill, tit for tat, Moneypenny won her bet fair and square.

"Told you Mallory and I weren't dating." The prim retort as she begins to jot down on padded paper.

An obscure coffee order taken that looked more like scattered random words than a fucking drink. Which really was amusing like he'd never admit, so he took to with stride.

Listening to his employer during a marriage disagreement over speaker was much more than necessarily desired for the victory and yet... there he was some upscale little ecafe with pretentious young people excavating more ways to put chocolate in coffee than is morally sound.

James intended on reading the little order sheet of idiocies, instead he just sticks it into the receipt pad with other finalized orders and winked at the girl at the register who took hint and copped a glance.

More than eager to please, he slips 20 quid onto the counter before making his way to the bar. "Keep the change."

What kept him fascinated, was the brunette behind the espresso machine, who had a book propped up on the top shelf and something steaming on hand.

Bond decidedly watched him work, and further found him punctual at his duties. If anything, he's pretty, and that was more than enough to start a conversation on. 

"Good reading?" 

The man bobs head head, not even looking at James. Surprising, but nevertheless the agent continues. 

"I knew a man, Jordanian, he made Turkish coffee like you'd never believe and he always had a book out... similar to that." A small flick of his head at the book, a calm and merely casual demeanor.

The barista however, almost startles when he manages a look at him. Composing himself quickly, "Apologies, I thought you were someone else for a moment." A thoughtful gaze, distant. 

"You drink a lot of coffee?"

"No."

"Hate it?

"Not really."

"Then why are you buying this mess?" A forward remark, yet James is smiling. Actually smiling, and he's not sure how to feel about that.

"Lost a bet, owe her one." Just a touch mysterious enough to have the Baristas intrigue piqued. 

"So what do you drink? Tea?"

"Scottish, tips, if on hand." But it was an occasional thing, if ever he the time to enjoy a whole cup. "Scotch too, sometimes together." Bond jokes, the barista makes a mild face of disgust.

"Liar. You don't drink the former as much the latter. I can tell."

Catching Bond all sorts of off guard, "So what, and you drink coffee?"

"Heavens, no."

A taunting sort of sound of realization from James, "Oh, and what? Brandy?"

When he shakes his head, his curls bob a little. "No, Earl grey... Vodka on a rainy day."

"It's London." Bond deadpans, the man behind the machine just smiles as if it's obvious and true to the joke. 

"I know."

Its that.

A brutal, sharp form of honesty that cut which ever way it went. Making one nonchalant agent proceed into a fitful night of thinking that he wasn't sure he much liked.

His heart shaped face, pouted cherry lips that twitched just the slightest. Dexterous hands and merciless wit... and the image reran in his mind in high definition. Not unusual, it was his job to remember the facil details and their eyes. 

Career point to know their names and ticks, but he lays on his back on the couch with nothing but a face to reverie. 

So the very next morning he goes again, orders the same thing he got last. The Barista is busier this time but he catches his name in the process.

Q.

A look on his face of recognition for the order on the cup and then 'Q' tilts his head and sees the blonde from the day before on the other side of the counter.

"Morning." Bond quips, a suave smile.

"You must like her to pieces." Q looking mildly amused behind thick glasses.

A shrug, "Can't help it, honestly, she keeps my head on straight."

Q looks a bit hesitant, but James doesn't want him to shut down so he carries. "My secretary, puts up with too much if you ask me."

"I didn't, but I can see why you find need to spoil her."

Oh so he wants to play it like that, ay?

James merely shrugs a small sort of way and keeps the amusement in his eyes alone. 

"You're not even reading the book, are you." Not a question, a statement.

Q's eyes widen just a bit and then he squints.

"You just have that pinned there cause you hope no one will talk to you." Bond gesticulates the book on the machine shelf.

The way Q pauses after that, tells him he got it right. That prideful air sweeps in, Q looks bordering of a sassy remark.

"Q."

He says as his way of farewell, and on his way out with the steaming beverage for his coworker. 

Who's surprised and cheerful despite being curious and suspicious underneath it all. James Bond, being nice, this nice, was strange. 

Yet as the week flew by, she asked no questions and accepted her caffeinated glory with a smile because she'd be bright and peppier than the rest.

It goes without saying just how much brighter.


	2. Chapter 2

His breath made icicles.

When he caught their eye, everything was spring and it melted to puddles. Like a blanket of moisture on his cheeks, warmed red with the determination and promise of something more.

Something different.

Untouchable.

He was used to the world slowed in his own perception. Cunning quick decisions in the heat of the moment and so he says.

"You're pretty, you're smart, and you like good coffee."

A scowl thrown his way, "And you don't even like coffee..."

"I don't love coffee, but good coffee, the foreign kind in a French press after a long day..." Shrugging, that halphazard swagger all natural and poised. 

"Why not?"

Q seems to pull in, take the bait, as he leans on the counter to his elbows as he rests his head on his hands.

"Is that your reason for most things? 'Why not?'"

"I don't need a reason."

"Ah." It lost Q, he has to reel him just right and that's what he enjoys. This catch and feel, push and pull. Q was bright and intelligent, funny and coy. 

Brunette, slender, posh.

His type.

Bond moves in just a little closer, "I just have to feel one thing, the slightest incremental move and I move."

"You don't say?"

"Dinner?"

Q inhales sharply, James pulls in nice with his exit. "Good, 8o'clock I'll meet you here out front."

"Ah-wait but--"

Flustered the darling man was flustered and scarlet pink to contrast his chocolate apron and winter complexion. 

"What is wrong with you?"

Moneypenny asks almost casually, like 'what's the time' or 'what's on the Telly tonight.' 

"Nothing."

"Bond you could at least tell a better lie, nothing, everything is wrong with you. Honestly though..." A look, or maybe we should say the look. 

"I'm on assignment starting tomorrow morning you know that."

He drops her coffee off, and tries not to let in on his other... liaisons.

"Alright, no, it's creeping me out... stop it with the coffee or I'm sicking Mallory on you."

"Are you so sure?"

"I wouldn't take the shot either, sure."

Bond is a little miffed, he knew he'd have to tell her soon so he just bode his time.

Now here they are and he's going to have to wheel around it about. "They work at the cafe." He says to a confused looking frown that slowly evolved into awe.

"Ah-- well, that makes sense. Well, carry on then... I hope she's fox."

"He." Bond says before leaving, "More of a minx in afraid." The door shuts but he's positively glowing as his phone blows up with messages.

The thoughts of this Q, dinner, and then how he'd fuck him into his bed had him giddy all day. 

It sounded best too, Dinner and a shag before he's off to clean out a terrorist cell? 

The icy rain hit his skin just right, outside the closing shop a skinny man tugging on his sweater and checking for spots. The agent almost laughs at the sight.

Instead he goes to him and offers his arm, which surprises the young man... first and foremost that's odd. 

"You act as if you've never been a gem on ones arm." He says into his ears and curls, every move he made was a sensual gesture.

"Most likely cause I've never been. I shine well on my own I think." He retorts but his cheeks are still rosy enough to make Bond believe otherwise. 

"That, you do." Bond agrees, the little French cuisine restaraunt with small patio and a patisserie was were he lead. 

"It's--" 

"Quaint, but not shoddy..." 

"Unexpected, yet, nice." A nod, deciding the word would do. Bond orders for the both of them, picks the wine and they talk about little.

To his relief, companionable silence. 

Q is a reasonable man, he eats just as much as James and doesn't need dessert and that is more than okay. He wants to get Q out of those clothes, the primal in him, the real reason in all things Bond did.

"Yours or mine." Q asks politely right as they're done paying and Bond wraps a hand up around the small of his back to murmur close. "Your bed."

Q bites his bottom lip in a way that James can say without a doubt is sinful and terrible. He pulls him along to the car.

Its a quiet drive, short, the walk to the flat. Then they're in the elevator and just as Bond turns to open his mouth Q latches on.

His hands are wrapped and gripped into expensive navy suit suede. Bond is eagerly returning the attention, reaching around to grip his arse with both hands.

"Ah-"

The door opens and he's hardly fumbling, Q is.

Once they get to the door Bond confiscates the keys and he pulls him inside the room as if he'd done it a hundred times before.

He comes back for more, this time he dominates the kiss. Pushing Q into his own closed apartment door. Tasting, pushing tongues together in some erotic synergy that has little sounds emanating of the younger man.

The wet excursion of lips met and bruised with teeth in a war for dominance so delicious James feels heady with the power and sex of it.

He urges on, hips rather unsubtle, pushing up into Q who's already fumbling for his belt. Bond stops his hands, to do it himself, stripping Q first and completely only getting out of his jacket and tie in the process.

Wrangling the younger man up and into his bedroom. It's like aerobics, choreography, James is practiced and he knew just how to move as in all things.

"Oh pretty, pretty, Q." He says, and his new little bed partner shivers. A wicked grin, before James slips over to kiss him again full and passionate. Devastating all he touches, fingers on skin and tonging sensitive areas. Collar, chest, hips and sides. Arse, inner thighs licking and sucking until the man beneath him is fisting into his short blonde hair with sweet agony. 

"James."

Bond smirks into his thigh, bites, "James!" Q laughs a little but moans more and thwacks him half heartedly.

"Ah-alright let me grab my lubricant and a condom--" Bond let's him, takes them from Q only to place them beside himself. "Not until I'm finished with you." Voice low and sultry, doing all sorts of wicked things to the poor younger man.

He moans so pretty, bites on his lips, debauched and spread out on the bed for him. Heaven, easy to finger with lube and prepare while he sucked on his lower lip and tongue. Fucking into his mouth in time with his own hands that had Q wild. 

Legs squirming, body convulsing, it was far beyond time. "Here, like this." 

Bond stopped him from going on all fours and instead propped to sit on the edge of the bed. After a condom, little more slick and Q to face him. Ah.

He's so sweet, tight, a little hole ready for him. Q gasps and squirms a little, baring down and moaning a soft thing.

"Fuck." The boffin says, "I know." James says back. Fortunately entranced, wickedly dumbfounded and aroused. 

Until finally it really is time to move and there's the first slap of hips. Bliss. 

A second, a third, they're gasping out bucking down and riding his cock with gusto. Q's not vocal persay, but he makes these pretty little sounds as he moves on with intent. He knows what he wants, he's going to get it. "James!" He gets in warning. Bond takes his calloused hands all over his lovers body. Reaching to tug at his cock and pull him off to climax.

James pushes him onto the edge of the bed half through it. Facing him, using his hips to slam into him with delicious friction. Balls slapping into his pretty arse as he pounds and thrusts and comes with gusto.

One mighty groan, and James is done in. Attending to his partner with kisses once more. Toppling him into the bed after pulling out, tying the condom and throwing it out. Q wipes down, and they both fall into a nap.

Bond leaves before Q could rouse, which leaves a flustered and confused man in his wake.

Well, Q thought with a groan. At least it was a good shag. He turns off his light, and goes to sleep. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

There's sand in the air and everywhere else too. As a helicopter lands in the north African sands making dunes sound like waves. Bond in a dress shirt and pants. Although a gash along his side and blood all over his right arm and cheek he's been worser for wear.

Quickly he has to retaliate against the backup he surely wasn't expecting.

Pulling an AK out of the sand and shooting up at one device, only to run of bullets after the first blathering thing decides to take a tumble.

The second one is wobbling, but functioning; shooting at James.

A bullet whizzes by and skims his side. He flinches a little but shoots the driver and it begins on its way to crash as the crew tries to unfasten a man from an already damaged and low hanging copter.

Good luck.

It slides into the other in hodgepodge effect to make a crash explosion of gasoline Bond expected.

Then prepared for by running the hell away and diving into sand for protection.

This, came easy to him.

A face full of sand and a head full of plans; this was easiest. Walking through this mess, child's play. 

There were tents of varying proportions scattered in organized ecclectism in camp-like order. Their terrorist occupants somewhere chasing a false lead and right into the French governments' hands. 

There was a small generator, a four wheeler, a few cases of supplies and a radio box. Loading up with what he could, more importantly water, James readies and leaves as fast as he could. Never one to linger long, and never one to look back.

But he did.

The little breeze he received on the wheeler was more than enough to have him grateful. But within there was a broiling war, he left more promptly than usual. Suppose he could use the work excuse?

Hed have to try and make it up to him, or maybe it was just time to drop it. He had his fun, perfectly acceptable to just let bygones be--- and yet.

Those stern emerald windows to the mind. 

Telling, not telling.

___________________

"You're honestly telling me, you, who's hacked into like... a bajillion servers, can't find out about this guy?"

"Precisely, and it's not as if I can't, I won't."

"So..."

"So leave it, I'm working."

"I am too, hello, this is why we're even talking right now?"

Q groans, wishing he could just end the prying but his best friend despite his distance away; always managed to annoy him. A look at his phone, it's a thought about James and then very fact that the man has his number. 

Shaking his head. 

"I promise to keep you updated, I swear but... let's move on?"

Which is just how it is.

* * *

 

"The Queen Riverpour and a bottle of your finest." He manages to say to the woman at the front desk. They offered services between rooms and luxury boats for rent. 

He used a card he stole, clothes he pilfered and still had his gun strapped to his chest. Never mind the AK-47 in his luggage.

"Yes sir." She doesn't ask questions, this is Africa and Bond looked important. Time was better spent where cash was made.

All things considered he got a relatively simple boat. Nothing flashy, which he could have but he did want to make it out of the port alive.

Casualy he steers right out of coast guard clearance only to meet smooth sailing along a clear sunset on Mediterranean Sea.

Sitting on deck and watching the stars, James palms at his gun and sips from a lovely bottle of French Vodka. Expensive, smooth and enough to make him forget about smooth pale skin and brunette hair just long enough between sips.

Glancing to his phone, the argument with himself prolonged into a dull silence of sloshing waves and creaking hull, low thrum engine.

He decides to text, a bad idea and yet Bond commits.

 

_Work is bullocks -J_

Promptly, a Response.

_So was the sex -Q_

 

 ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~Okay, so it was deserved and James wants to toss his phone. He would have if it weren't for the waves that would surely engulf it.

 

_My job, its demanding. Might have been the stress -J_

 

_You? Stressed? -Q_

 

_Im not immune -J_

 

_Nor I -Q_

 

_I'm sorry -J_

 

_Whatever for? -Q_

And that was the question, wasn't it? Whatever for? They had their fun, and yet Q seems disatisfied and pissy. Bond usually didn't visit the same port once or twice but this man... _  
_

_I want to see you again -J_

Unsure of what else to say in weird times as these. Q doesn't answer immediately, in fact he doesn't answer at all. James was never one to be rejected, thus the cool burn really stung in a way he'd never anticipated.

 To add insult to injury, or rather injury to insult, out of seemingly from nowhere he meets the impact of a bullet. The booming noise and the burning feel as it skims his side and wakes him right the hell up.

An assailant, and whoever it was, a bloody good one to not have drawn the attention of one highly trained spy. 

He doesn't move directly upright from prone position, only away from his prior to grab his weapon and move at a worms pace to the pilots hub. Meeting the man there, he fires a few more-or-less warning shots towards the bloke. 

No sound of injury and he'd run out of bullets, he blunts forward. Disarming the man and receiving a blow to the right cheek simultaneously. It's quick, he one two punches the man off kilter uses all his weight to push the man right off his feet.

Quickly moving up for the gun, to be met with a knife to the side. Bloody buggering fuck!

James gasps out at the deep jab, but lashes out by instakilling with a double tap to the retreating mans head. Holding at his own torso while shooting at the jetting getaway boat.

Emptyting the clip before giving up and starting his own engine to race away as fast as he could manage. While he intended to keep low speed to manage fuel... he couldn't risk it now. 

Once clear out of danger, he goes to clean his wounds in the cabin. Vodka for cleaning the cut, he makes not a sound when stitching his side only drinks whatever's left in the bottle.

Moreover, almost a little belatedly, he realizes his phone is missing. With a refill on his walther, James moves back to deck for a search of the floor with a few dimly lit sweeps. Dusk was now night, and it took a few more moments than it normally would. 

Ah, there.

He picks up the cracked cellular device only to see an alert. Feeling like a bloody childish school boy, excitement over a bloody message.

_Dinner Friday 8o'clock -Q_

 

_Ill be there -J_

Oh and he would, oh he very much will be there ...and early.

James smiles, letting darkness gaze upon his glee. Sailing for home and hoping to be there soon. 


	4. Chapter 4

"So you don't do relationships, I take it." Q says rather bluntly, middle of supper so James can't deflect the assault with escape or a half meant retort to appear suave and aloof and it's just where Q wants him.

James goes silent and pretends to be thoughtful while chewing. Or not so much as pretends but wonders the words he can use.

"My job is demanding, hectic, it doesn't help for long term relationships, no."

Which is mostly the truth, despite the hardened shell around his heart and such.

"I'm guessing you don't do casual." James finishes, shoving down the fight or flight reaction because... he wants to. He likes him, wants to hear what he has to say.

"Au contrare, Mr. Bond, I'm a gay man with a career. If anything I am used to the casual affair."

Q says rather nonchalant, which surprises him a little. At any rate, the agent doesn't play that on his face. Going for the sip of martini, watching Q with apt admiration in suave hued blue.

"But you don't want casual, with me." James says, the elephant in the room.

The younger man let's out a bark of laughter. "That is what you'd like to hear, now, isn't it? Sure it may be true, but I know how this works and how it doesn't." Q sounds mildly bitter, and James doesn't blame him.

"I want something more, and bloody oath it doesn't need a label or titles or expectations other than company when capable." The boffin declares, strong and yet reasonable.

"Dare I want a monogamous shag on at least one end? Dare I want monogamous company? Ha." Q downs the rest of his wine, obviously unwell and Bond watches him go aflame in this beautifully sharp sort of way he'd never dreamt of.

James is slowly sipping of his drink, amusement coloring his gaze. Before Q can call for the waiter, he reaches across to grip his hand and pull it to the table.

An angry smear begins to spread on pale cheeks, but James is here to make his mark. Kissing him immediately, in front of any and all who sees without a care.

First his boffin tenses, and then he slowly melts. A hum, pushing James away, "You're shameless, and a cad." Q rearranges himself in his seat rather flush and timid.

"I know."

James says, still lost in his own mind.

"So that's all, a kiss and a mind to ignore me?"

Q is less incensed, but still flighty, James can't blame him.

"I'm not a good man. Q." He says lowly, "I'm older. My work isn't steady, my schedule random." Nonplussed, swirling his drink and finishing it off.

"I don't do monogamy."

He finishes.

"But I think you more than casual."

Q's so quiet, James continues.

"I want to keep seeing you. It is all I can give, all I want to give, but I want to keep seeing you." The ending 'take it or leave it' is silent but present. 

"I don't believe you."

James begins to scowl, he lets him finish.

"That you're a bad man..."

"You must be joking..." Bond laughs, a short snort almost. Surprised at the audacity of the young.

"Laugh all you want. I don't believe it."

"How do you manage that assumption?"

Q pours himself another glass, a devious grin over the side of his own cup.

"Well Mr. Bond, all of us have our secrets." Q winks, which unnerves James deep down and arouses him all the same.

It's dangerous on every level but never call James a careful man. Never call him wiser either, instead he locks his ankles with Q's and smiles right back at him. 

* * *

 

"James, oh! Fuck! James---" A moaning, writhing, heap on the bed. Bond rips his cardigan clean off replacing it with his tongue and teeth. Licking and nibbling over nipple to nipple. Grinding his hips down and hard into the other man with gusto.

"Little Tart."

Bond hisses, spreading open his legs roughly. Q gasps, moaning even louder and tightening his legs around James with gusto.

"I'm not..." He pants, "Little." 

James palms at his crotch, gripping his dick and going for the rest of his clothes.

"No, I suppose you're not."

He responds, and Q is all pliant responsive and willing. 

Quick to prepare him, James kisses him into submission. The whole time, fingers deep in his arse and prodding at the sweet spot deep within. 

"James! Please---" 

He obliges, slipping within, copious lube and preparation to guide his way. 

After a mission, he's more primal like this. Q doesn't question that he remains clothed, doesn't prod at his insistence for secrecy and quiet. It scares him, unnerves him just how precious and trusting the other man is. Pulls at feelings the agent didn't know he had within him any more.

"More oh, bloody soddering fuck, fuck me!" He begs, James lifts him up immediately. Up and off the bed to lift him in his arms and up in mid-air.

Taking him nice and deep, animalistically and onto his dick with fervor.

Q makes a pleased sort of noise, gasping and squirming for it. Eyes wanderlust and wide with shock. Obviously he'd never had a man that could do this. The thought sends something primal through him, savage almost.

Bond whispers in his ear, "Look at how you take it." James grips his arse tight and fucks him harder, able to stand and have him right where he wants him.

"So lovely, so tight, my Q." A possessive little snarl, and something he didn't expect of himself.

"James!"

"Yes, Q?" He growls lowly, and his boffin climaxes right there between their chests. A shocking state of things, having not touched his dripping cock once since they started.

"Bend over."

"Be here in the morning?" 

A bit of silence.

"Stay?"

James sees something he didn't imagine he would; vulnerability. Blinking in shock,  something so simple but obviously it meant more to Q.

The agent nods, "Now flip over." 

Q smiles in a way that makes Bond very glad he asked Q to flip over in the first place. Having no control of the way it flips his heart around and fro.


	5. Chapter 5

It's like waking up after the deepest and most perfect of restful sleeps because it is. Q is wrapped all up in blankets and blinks sleep out of his eyes.

A head of blonde hair beside him and motionless besides the gentle pull of breathing. 

Hes shocked.

Truly.

No one had ever... stayed before.

Q let's his eyes flutter shut to take in this moment. Only to move when he hears James' phone begin to ring.

The cutest little angry groan, and James is up to retrieve his phone from his slacks. Which reminds Q, James is stripped of everything but his pants, trousers in hand before casually tossed to side.

"Speak." James says, a grumble in his breath. "It went well, and no I can't talk about it."

_"Well why the hell not?"_

Moneypenny sounds affronted, and Q can hear it is a woman on the phone but nothing more.

James looks back at Q, who's looking almost shyly back up at him in a way. 

"I'm busy."

_"Busy? Are you blubbering mad--- I-- oh, wait--- just come in by five would you? M is having a shit fit about some drive and I'll need your help to sort it out."_

"Course, tell the wanker I said hello." He appears amused, sliding off to hang up and return to his prize.

Q all precious and curious, is laying there staring. So James, with a huff, leans down to kiss his pretty cherry lips with interest and playful affection he rarely felt.

 "Morning." Q says just as soon as he latched off. Looking wrecked from such an onslaught, it's surely the best wake up he'd ever had and nothing could top it (ha ha.) 

"Off to work?" Q assumes, James kisses him again. He can't remember having felt this incessant desire to kiss someone since... 

"No, not till a bit later. I'm afraid you're stuck with me for a little while." The agent remarks, the hint of a smile on his face.

"Hmm." A thoughtful hum, and James waits for the questions but they never come. Instead, Q begins to get up with a stretch. 

"And just where do you think you're going?"

"Er--- to put on the kettle."

James stops him by standing and placing a hand to his chest. "Allow me." A kiss, and then he's off to go make Q a cup.

* * *

 

"You wait 48 hours for a report because?"

"Important business to tend." James remarks, "I told you this, sir."

"I- I know what you told me, 007 but this isn't the best excuse I've heard."

"I went in dark, extracted, got out barely unscathed and returned the information. Is there anything else, sir?" Obstinate, James holds strong in the face of the scrutiny and when Mallory growls a dismissal he feels to have won the war.

Walking out and into Moneypennys office, he gets the pop quiz.

"So, this 'he' guy. Sounds a bit serious." She murmurs, picking on the agent. 

Bond who looks just fractionally amused, shakes his head. "Bored much, miss moneypenny?."

"Well, course I'm bored; I'm married to my job and usually you are too..." squinting, she tucks some curls back into a head scarf. Endearing, but the conversation unnerved him more than the fact that this woman would shoot him on order.

"Queen and Country still owns my soul. Not to worry, Ms. Moneypenny."

"I'm not, I'm worried about your heart."

Bond scoffs a bit of laughter.

"Laugh all you want, I've never seen any one catch your eye like this; let alone a man." 

"It's not anything to be concerned about."

Moneypenny sighs, "Right then, well, congrats on putting up with the boss just fine."

"Of course."

James is off and he thinks first about going to Q's. Argues himself out of it until he reaches his car. The car that Q recited the name make and model of upon sight and that had James pleasantly surprised. 

At Q's flat, he suavely sets at the door to buzz the ringer. Said door opens to a surprised Q. Wearing a oversized green t-shirt with a _legend of Zelda_ logo. A big head-set around his neck that glowed blue in LED

His glasses were a thicker and larger pair.

"What in Gods name are you wearing?" James blinks; cautious.

"Er it's a gaming headset." Face a little Rosie at the admission.

"I'm playing WoW."

"What?"

"World of Warcraft, it's an MMO..."

James watches blankly, "I do things on the weekend too, you know." Q retorts at the face of confusion and disbelief.

"You don't dance, club? Drink?" Bond asks feeling as if he'd walked into the twilight zone. 

"On doctor who nights at Topsies and drag nights on occasion but not every weekend night." Rolling his eyes, but ignoring the rudeness to look James over with interest and studious eyes. 

"I prefer a good book." 

James watches him, as if a unicorn sprung up into the middle of his living room. He should have guessed, should've known, but honestly he was too enamored with the barista he'd seen to care.

"God, you were the kind of bloke I'd pull out of toilets in Uni." He murmurs, "Pull out of toilets? As opposed to pushing them in?" Q looks indignant, crossing his arms definsively.

James retreats to the liquor cabinet for a self invite, pouring vodka into a mixer.

"The vesper." Q says innocently, James pauses feeling as if he'd been doused with cold water. "I can make you that martini you know, that man at Les Boulange called it 'the vesper' and I figured out what's in it."

Her name, on his lips, felt wrong.

James puts the glass on the counter, then gestures to the cabinet. "By all means."  

Q pulls open the mini fridge for lemon and grabs his peel utensil. The fact that the man had a liquor cabinet and a damn library in his flat both intrigued and perplexed the agent. By all means, Q was a man of many flavors. Witty, intelligent, sweet, sharp... all the things that had James reeling on the inside.

Some Ice into the mixer, gin, white wine... Bond gets up behind him and watches. Slowly, pushing a hand up the baggy shirt to touch and hold Q's waist a fair bit provocatively. 

He hears the younger man inhale all sharp, the pricks of bumps on Q's arms and neck. Yet under pressure, his new lover works steadily. 

"You're good at this."

"I used to bar tend."

"Is that why you hate them?"

"Yes."

"Not because of men like me?"

Q shakes his head enough that his curls bounce, Bond is entranced.

Sooner than later, despite the press of hips, a drink is at hand. James grinds into him regardless, taking a sip and basking in it's refreshing note of perfect creation.

"You weren't a bully."

"Oh?"

A short shake of his head, Q hisses at the push of heavy cock against the small of his back and arse. 

"You would beat the bully's arse, you had more fun being the good guy with a hand up a willing skirt than the opposite." Breathless reply of an aroused man. 

He was so damn smart, "Really? How did you figure that?" Bond pulls into Q as if he could get any closer. Finishing his drink, letting the glass slip onto the counter with a clatter.

"You're a good man."

"You're naive."

"Maybe so. Doesn't change a thing."

Bond feels something tie up in knots around his chest and he can't describe it. Pain, pleasure, sharp like wit and knife. 

"No, it doesn't." James answers in seductive murmurs against a soft shelled ear. Q is trembling, even as James pushes him sharply to the ground and grabs a handful of his hair to lift his head up for a gaze in his pretty eyes.

"You want to suck my cock?"

Q moans deeply in response, nodding his head enthusiastically even with the burn of his hair being tightly grasped. 

James strips him, one flick of his wrist and all the boy was wearing under his shirt was bright scarlet boxer briefs. 

"Come on then, both hands on me." Immediately obeyed, James groans the second he's released from his trousers only to be immediately met with a soaking hot mouth. 

He hisses a bit it's so damn good, pouring a bit more Vodka into his glass as Q laps at him like a hungry bitch. Gagging just a little when he takes all of him, Bond tilts his head back with a mild groaning noise that still makes his lover more enthusiastic. 

Q's face is fucked sloppy and not because James has to make him. But because the minx is sucking him off so good he thinks his eyes are going to be stuck in the back of his head by the end of this.

Motioning to get Bond to spread a little, James obeys, grabbing for a sip of sweet liquor as he's on the receiving end of some obscene sex. Q's face is ruinous, watering eye, swollen and tightly sucked in cheeks and lips. 

"So pretty, a cock sucker to the core." James mutters and Q continues to bob his head like his life depended on it.

Moving off to suck his balls and lick at those too with apt attention, moaning desperately. James watches and notes how he doesn't touch his own cock but his hips sway with a heavy prick that had to be painful by now. 

Before he could protest...

"James... James fuck my face. Use my throat, use me, please. Please, I need you to come." The desperate way he says need, nearly had the agent releasing right then and there. Instead he drinks what's in his glass, ignoring the begging and torturing his little lover.

"Fine if you're really that desperate." James huffs, feeling power and humor and damn the pleasure of it.

Q goes bonkers when Bond starts to thrust into his pretty fucked-up face. Lips smeared with precome and spit as James holds nothing back on the pretty queer on his knees. Moaning and sucking, gagging and just barely humping the agents leg.

When he begins to come without warning deep in Q's throat like he'd owned it all along.

Pulling back to watch it dribble and drench the other mans tongue, lips. 

Fuck, it's disgusting and glorious. 

"Ah..." Bond groans, Q looks dizzied, licking his own lips, fingers, as if eating dessert.

Q begins to fumble for his own pants, his own erection. James stops him with his foot, a confused expression on his lovers' face until James is on the floor and nuzzling his hot dick against his face.

Returning the favor with urgency.

It was safe to say the boffin was surprised, endlessly still until James pops off for long enough. "Come on Q, show me what you can manage." 

Bond takes him in mouth again, and this time he gets used up twice as fast as his own go round. A squirming, gasping, darling brunette who truly didn't expect this let alone an orgasm out of the deal.

Q is butt naked with a still fully dressed agent on top his lap by the end of the session. Staring dazedly into the wall. 

"We will definitely, have to do that again." 

To which Q nods slowly in agreeance.


	6. Chapter 6

James is at work.

Some duchess he needs to shag so he can hack her contacts and see if she's selling secrets to an enemy. 

Shes pretty, married, his type, nevertheless he's not exactly interested. 

So obviosuly he's playing the part, ignoring the buzzing on his cell that he knows is Q with little updates. 

The man is hardly overly sentimental and puts nothing at risk. Just silly, little remarks,

_You'll get to meet Trebuchet and Turing when you get back. They're back from France and I'd think you'd like them._

Of course and the simplest of things.

_Christ the sun is out, really must be a red letter day._

James loved it.

Like having someone there when there was no one at all.

He sleeps with her and knows despite his guilt that he promised no monogamy before. 

The knowledge doesn't save him, only helps it go dissolve like bitter medicine down a swollen throat.

When he's back in London just three days later, James visits the coffee shop. The look on Q's face is priceless when he peers up at the sound of one particular order.

"Back so soon?" Q says soft as day break, to which he's easily responded to. "I got bored, finished early." 

James knows he won't have this forever, knows that not a sane person could stand the secrecy and sneaking. He knows he couldn't, yet it hurts still just thinking about it. 

"We should go for dinner, some shopping after this." A polite request. 

Q looks a bit surprised, looking around, "I'm off in a few hours?"

"Good, I'll be back then." James stated with simple ease. Following back to MI6 for a coffee drop off.

"He really must be something." Eve remarks, drinking at her perfectly made cafe creation. She pops off the lid to eat the whip cream with a spoon and always seems to enjoy it liberally. 

"What makes you say that?" Keeping the blank note, he wonders why she can just... tell. 

"Everyone has their tells, you happen to be just a bit more discreet during poker." A sarcastic remark.

"Very funny, are we still due Thursday for Belize?" He asks dryly, buttoning up his dove gray bespoke with suave form unmatched by any. Moneypenny rolls her eyes only he ignores it.

Its not until a few seconds later the mood around the office changes drastically. Mallory bursts into the secretaries chamber to sigh in relief.

"He's here, good, you're officially on duty and I need your assistance on an emergency situation." 

James curls his fists tight, guilt prickling in his throat. 

"Of course, sir." 

Mallory brings him into the office, "Our servers are under attack and we've just found the location." Almost relieved to see Bond, a red letter day indeed?

"Some underground mess, a turf war of the cyber variety began recently. As you know, computers have left their mark on the underground network here." How late had he stayed up?

"I'm going to need a ground agent to go in, destroy their memory servers, and get out." Stern, but that isn't unusual.

"It's low grade and short term damage but it is enough to get our feet back on the ground and adjusted."

James doesn't say much but one or two finely worded answers.

"Good, besides the bomb, what else should I be doing?"

"What? You think I'd find something more remote and detailed in the middle of your weeks vacation? Ha, not likely. Consider this, taking out the trash on your way out." Mallory looks to have a head ache so Bond isn't keen on sticking around. Mentioning a goodbye to Moneypenny before making his way to Outiffiting and then his car.

The location was relatively close, 2 hours north and not some pothole in Russia. It seemed to be a nondescript business and information sort of company out side of a smaller town. 

Sure he should text Q, sure he should call, maybe, but he doesn't and he doesn't feel as if he owes him explanation. 

This is James Bond, agent 007, and whatever it was between them had to be muted and subtle. 

Planting the virus into a super computer, wasn't the issue. It was the simple fact that despite all the careful planning and espionage James ended up turning around and receiving a knock to the head with some sort of blunt object.

\- - - 

A young man, glimpses at his watch for the eightieth time. Only to sigh and call a cab instead, he'll catch sick out in the rain. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Qwerty** :  _What happened to the servers?_

 **Doger:** _Some bloke showed up and put a virus card in the mainframe. Serves him right. Lol_

 **Qwerty:**   _Is it messy?_

 **Doger:** _A bit, I think he's MI5_

 **Qwerty:** _Why the hell would you even mess with that?_

 **Doger:**   _Gotta keep this business afloat somehow and I can't have people like him running around alive._

 **Qwerty:** _Are you out of your mind? The whole government knows by now, kill him and you'll have more to answer for than just cyber terrorism._

 **Doger:** _Bit late for that mate, what's done is done. I'll text with updates._

Q takes a deep breath, staring at the start key with creeping anxiety. What started as a easy way of making clean cash was now a mess he never wanted to take. Watching his best friend grow crooked wasn't even the worst of it, it was watching his good name go down the toilet with this mess.

There were few things to do, very few ways to turn. Q packs a few of his things, grabs his laptop and hard drive for his trip north.

Before leaving the house he wonders if James will show up belatedly and try his apartment.

Shaking off the sentimental uncertainty, Q gets a cabbie despite the expense. 

Right as he gets there he sees a small delivery truck being loaded with what would seem like mail. If mail happened at 11pm at night, grimly he wonders if there's a dead body somewhere inside. Instead he forces himself out of he gruesome, only to go sabotage the computer himself.

From the safety of his own laptop at the corner store near by. He watched remotely, hacking the cameras.

He wants to oversee this, because he needs to and he'll eventually have to turn himself over to the police. But the best way of stopping this attack is at its source. 

And he knows he's the only sort who can end all of this.

He watches while he codes when something seems a bit off. A man, in a suit, comes crawling out of the back of a hold full of paper and small mail. Q nearly drops his laptop in shock of it, packing up but keeping his program running despite it.

This is suicidal, this is ridiculous, he curses at himself mentally. When a driver comes out yelling behind him, Q tries not to panick while unveiling a stun gun to the side of said bloke and in a fit of adrenaline runs to the cab of the truck for shelter; no one else was there.

This is all pure fortune, however when the door opens on the passengers side of the cab despite it being locked. Q holds his breath and let's out a squeak when he's met fist to face and he's out like the night.

The last thing he thinks, is wondering if they'll even know he's missing. 

* * *

He didn't get enough time to look at his face. James was in a hurry to get the hell out of here and quickly. Instead he focuses on tying the blokes hands together with a bungee cable and hotwiring the car to life.

Using his sleeve to dab at the blood gathering at his brow. Knowing he has a head ache pertaining to a concussion. 

Turning on the cab light he recognizes the head of hair. The pale skin, the glasses and even down to the very garish gray jumper. 

It was as if someone shot Vaseline through his veins and submerged him in ice. The despair was first, leading him to shake and tremble over the steering wheel.

Searching the car the only weapon he could find was the taser on Q's person. If that is even his name, if he's even a fucking person. 

Whatever, he stops the car off the side of the road just thirty minutes outside of London. Pulling the taser, and tasing Q once with one harsh go.

Waking him up into the sound of an agonizing scream.

"Bloody fucking hell, can we at least be civilized---" Q stops.

He stares.

"You're Mi5?! Really. It's been under my nose this whole time..." 

Bonds mouth opens to retort, confused the younger man was actually giggling about this. 

"I mean the whole 'not a nice man' thing, MI5? 6? Oh Doger you're such a fool."

Tired of the nonsense, James shoves the taser into Q's side but doesn't pull the trigger. "Who the hell do you work for?"

He demands, feeling all he disgrace and rage of a few weeks solid flow right through in violent succession.

Q freezes up, "James I---"

"Don't you even dare!"

The pure venom, "Listen, please--"

"Answer me now, you lying little shit. I should have known, you're a snake." James in his anger tases him only to cause him pain.

"Ja-James--"

Over and over and his red faced anger, adrenaline, whatever it was and he realizes with how Q's eyes are hemmoraging he will kill him at this rate so he growls out in anger and throws the taser out the window.

Q is writhing, twitching, eyes swollen shut. "James--- I didn't know." 

Something about his voice.

The memory of Vesper telling him to go under venisian depths. Of cold dead fingers unable to grasp his own any more.

"I didn't know, I'm not innocent, but I didn't know."

"Shut it, you're a liar, and I'm taking you in because you're under arrest..." Starting up the truck, angrily, driving fast and unwilling to stop. 

"My friend. He's an idiot... a criminal. Suppose I am too, in theory."

James smiles bitterly, "Some theory."

"I didn't know, not until recently, I didn't know he had darker plans than laundering. Honestly, and when he told me... today." Q nods, "It is good you found me, I know where my friend lives. I have his bank accounts, emails..."

"Maybe I'll get those out of you and dump you into the Thames when I'm finished."

"You won't."

James wants to fucking throttle him, hands white he's clutching so hard. 

"Give me one good bloody reason I shouldn't?"

"I have three."

"Save it for questioning." No more, no more talking because he's compromised. Devastated and compromised in ways he believed would never happen again. 

He swears now, never, ever, again. 


	8. Chapter 8

Emotional waltz.

James takes his fugitive to the questioning room Moneypenny trailing behind him in shock and worry. Mallory was already there, having heard of the incident and had files spread out on the table.

Nearly dropping his cup of tea the moment he sees him.

"This is code name Qwerty, James did you kill our suspect?" James drops the young man into a chair, straightens out his torn and bloodied suit. 

"Of course not sir, always a professional." James says in a blithe way that wasn't to be ignored. Q groans a little, waking just from the prospects of being manhandled.

"So, suspect, what's he on our list for. Aiding and assisting a known cyber terrorist---"

"Unknowingly." Q lifts his hand, "I can't open my eyes but I assure you. Doger is who you want, he's gone mad with greed and I've broken laws... but never treason."

Mallory knew this, but he wanted to let him steam. "Really, what kind of laws?"

Q goes silent, "Look Im not here to sell my soul. I've been meaning to get to you but Doger... he's one of the best. We went to Uni together. If anyone can stop him, it's me." Ardent in his disposition. 

James is a stone cold statue, Eve looks at Mallory with uncertainty. "What did you do to my agent?"

Q perks, then bows his head.

"E.M? Mocha caramel extra hot, afagato Style with whip cream? M? Hot, black."

Mallory opens his mouth only to shut it, Moneypenny covers her mouth.

"Well shit." 

James is looking off distantly, "I didn't know your agent was-- I didn't know James was an agent. Honest, the only hacking into British soil I've done was to stop Doger from stealing anything."

"You want me to believe this?" Mallory rubs at his temple. 

"I don't expect anything, but I'm willing to sign anything and everything over. Work for you." He murmurs, looking half himself.

"Eve, get 007 to medical." 

A dismissal if she ever heard one, "Come on James, we've got to do a few things." Said agent was cooling off slowly and surely. He watched Q for a moment. Betrayed and angry, he follows Eve reluctantly.

"He didn't know James." The first thing she says to him.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You love him."

James chuckles a dark and dry thing,

"No."

"Whatever James, whatever it is don't let the fact that he'd been bit of a dark star get to your head. You like him, in the very least, and you've stunned the boy into temporary blindness. I'd say that makes you even."

"He is a traitor."

"By association."

"And?"

"Well, he's done everything by the book. Joined our ranks, Mallory would be a fool to not consider it."

James goes quiet.

Mallory rolls her eyes, "It means, maybe Q can know more about you after all. Especially working here."

Bond grows sick thinking about it, having someone in that close. Someone who knew him inside and out, it's too much and James shudders a bit thinking about it. 

When he comes back, doctors have begun to swarm Q. Bandages, healing ointment for burns, water and an IV drip.

This is when he is privy to the scarring and bruises he left on the younger mans body. He tries, determined, to ignore the guilt in his head. The guilt reserved for humans, and fails.

"I can tell, there's no coming back from this." Q says to the room that shouldn't be as visible to a blind man.

"Don't be daft, I can hear you." 

James watches curiously, "Coming back would mean there was a place to start with."

"Oh? And because you didn't know my alternate means of a paycheck you..."

"Don't want to hear it. Whatever it was, whatever these past few weeks were? It was just sex, nothing else. I'm sure you understand."

Its quiet now, Q says nothing, he didn't know what to expect but the stone silence? Not necessarily in the cards he guessed. 

"Mm." 

"Well, hopefully your extraction team gets Doger quick and behind bars. I'd rather sleep easier knowing everything was safe."

James can hardly believe it, the way Q reacted.

He leaves without another word.

* * *

 

"He's not vesper."

Bond, stunned out of his reverie even flinched At the sound of her name.

Looking up a bit bewildered at her,

"What?"

"James he looks like a forlorn puppy dog. Alec has been on it for weeks trying for a date or something but this Q won't budge."

Records were records and background checks were very well managed at MI6. Q was clean despite the few sneak bits here and there.

It felt like weeks when in reality it was only two days. 

Q made special time even while just offering his two pence. Which helped shorten a chase that could go on for any length of time. When it was time for questioning, even Doger was quick to dismiss Q.

"Ha, Qwerty? He was too scared and whiny for my operation, even tried sabotage I think one of your own delt with him." Qwerty, Q, listened from behind darkened glass.

"He always thought he was the best. Really he just let his feelings get in the way...that can get shite and fast."

James was in the very room, listening attentively for once.

"You said he'd help you with code?"

"Business. Always. He stole from his own father's company with me. Lot of crock in that story... then I just slowly laid the bait and Q followed."

"What kind of bait?"

"Told him I killed an agent, wanted to see if he was loyal or whatever." He didn't expect Q to get away with it alive. So Mallory feeds into it, "Your double agent is very much dead. But how did you get him to follow you in the first place?"

Doger laughs, far from a cheery thing, "He fucked our professors in Uni." Shaking his head, "I say that plural as in he had a bloody foursome and I swear to this day that's why he had perfect marks... but the professors held it over his head. He needed enough money to pay them off and get on with his own life... some touching bit like that." He spins a finger like la-ti-da.

Mallory hates this man already, even if Qwerty was a sketchy figure. 

"Right, well, prison then." A sigh, he didn't need this one anymore. The undignified look on this bastards face. 

"What? I want my lawyer!"

"You think we give court appearances for treason? MI6?" Mallory crosses his legs, "Our code sources are better than you, and emotionally better equipped." The boss he is, M straightens his bespoke and leaves to see Bond while agents escort this idiot to the clink. 

Inside the glass box, James was seething. Quiet but inordinately so, M had to double take. "I'm surprised you haven't paid our new Quartermaster a visit."

"Haven't had the time." James is distant, gazing into a scenery with no one ahead to watch.

"Well, I'm sure he'd have come to see you instead... but he's not quite ready to be dispensed of medical." That alone wakes the agent of his reverie. Turning to watch M leave with a quiet click of the door. 

 

Q sits in a desk he feels is much to big.

A sharp cerulean gaze on his back like adamant.

Weight on his shoulders like lead.

A new position and half his department hates him. 

Including, the man he fancies.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Of course his eyes and body had healed before he took any strength in his position. MI6 even paid off his professors and threatened them all terrified. 

Just for a bloke like him?

Sure he knew his name was big, qualifications outstanding, background smooth. On probation as a leader of something bigger than himself?

Deep down he felt out of his depth, but on the outside he was smooth as stone. 

007 unnerved him, Looking of ice and sandpaper with cruel resolve and angry disposition. Cleanly kempt, expertly shaved like an adopted stepford child kept in the attic.

One day in an attempt to help them 'get along' Mallory sends James down to shadow Q for a day. An unusual task that put oil on James' already raging fire.

"Quartermaster." James greets, less than amused.

Q turns a bit, with a wary look and then a smirk. "007."

Simmering, James clenches his fist's and gives a smile that can only mean impending doom.

"Ugh, don't look at me like a child does at his broken toy. It's so 1955." 

"You're operating under the false assumption that I give a damn."

"I'm assuming nothing, if you can't fuck, fight or finance it, you're a ball of unsolved aggression."

"You act as if you know me."

"Ta."

"What are you playing at?" Bond almost let it go, almost said nothing and let it be...

"I know what you like. What you sound like at the precipice of orgasm. When you're desperate to kill something. What it feels like to have your hands, inside me, around my body in unchecked violence. I'd say, I know you better than most and I don't even need to touch a file."

Instead of becoming explosive, James remains calm and collected. Despite haven been shaken to the core. This fucker can read his file, the knowledge is poison. 

"I really thought you were going to kill me." Q says softly, differently. 

Right there, the voice, his tone was enough to turn James off all together. The anger and bitter resolve swirled and staved like the end of a hurricane. Downpour, shifting all the earth in his universe and out of his element.

"I should have."

No heat there.

"You don't believe that. If you did, I would be dead."

It's correct.

"If you're so sure, then why are you shaking?" James walks a bit closer, a raptor surrounding its black sheep.

"Be-because I'm compromised."

He pushes his thick glasses up closer on his face. Lifting a cup of earl grey for a sip of desperately needed caffeine. 

"Oh Q, a poorly declared observation."

"No-- Physically, yes but, I love you." He retorts as if it's obvious. 

Everything breaks.

Q's shaking, trying and failing to stop. "I have, for a while, I know-- I know it will never be the same. I'm grown, I understand that---"

A scoff, "Apparently not."

The agent isn't amused, "You're still trying, even after I told you it was just a couple shags in the wind."

He goes pale, quiet.

"Was it not enough? Just like all your professors back in your Uni days? You needed one after the other to feel whole again?" 

Q looks as if he's going to be sick, then looks away.

"Leave."

James laughs, "Oh, now I've hit a nerve..."

"Leave, or the only missions you'll be having are permanent ones to Antarctica you insufferable bastard!" 

So loud, anyone in the offices close by would obviously here.

Q opens his drawer and throws something at him. A mug, porcelain and odd, and it shatters to the smoothed work shop concrete in raucous display. 

It's black, glossy with a cream number 7 on the side. James notes on his way out despite its shattered condition.

Belatedly in his car, he realizes it matches the cream hued mug on the desk of his new boss.

Shame could be thicker than London morning fog. 


	10. Chapter 10

It's a crisp morning with mild fog sinking close the ground. Cerise sunlight of dawn and early spring. 

Cheery almost.

Sod cheer.

James thought groaning awake from a mild hangover. He checks his phone for any messages regarding the altercation, only to find nothing, lazily tossing it to the floor with a huff of annoyance.

Why was this boy so annoying?

After a brisk shower, a cup of tea, a sweet roll for breakfast. He heads to work, right for Mallory's office to hear an argument in the secretaries office.

M's office door was cracked open and Moneypenny was nursing a headache with a cup of her favorite coffee.

A withering smile at James, she shakes her head.

"Are you bloody joking?"

"No, sir. It isn't an outstanding act of insubordination. James... he deserves privacy from me, and you know it."

"It doesn't matter if I know he's a pain in the the arse. I expect all my agents, quartermaster including, to read any and all files pertaining to an agent."

Q sighs, "Then let R handle him."

"Quartermaster, I'm taking a risk letting you lead in the first place. Handing down our best agent to your second in command? Fools decision."

"It isn't a foolish play, if we are both compromised."

"What?"

"James, I don't know what it is, but I feel the relationship with my agent will only grow worse if he is forced in my care." 

Q was so commanding, so strong, for a man arguing with the king pin of MI6.

"Then that is precisely why---"

"We've had sex."

Mallory begins to cough. "Forgive me for being blunt but---"

"The fact it makes you nervous eludes to something deeper here. Proving James should... he should consent to any file I read."

M's eyes narrow, "But James has sex with quite a few bit of people. 007, gave up all writs of consent when he joined our service."

"Typically, yes, but please understand..."

Mallory opens his mouth, James strolls on in to stop the nonsense.

"Scared of what you'll find, Quartermaster?"

Q goes quiet, M mildly slaps his hand onto his desk while giving a harsh stare. "007."

"M."

"The new Quartermaster wants your consent to see your files."

James hates it, and more importantly he hates that Q is being so damn... mature about this. Calm and collected, kind, to him even after yesterday's angry show. 

"Why not." James shrugs, "Its all part of the job description." Sharp like a snake, Q is the mongoose, poised in his destruction.

"Right then, if that will be all? I need a drink and unfortunately it will be tea." M rubs his temples, dismissing them both with a waft of his hand.

So they're leaving when James latches his hand around Q's upper arm. Pulling him seemingly casual around the corner to an empty alcove with the emergency exit. 

Q silently followed and only made noticable protest when James pinned him against the wall.

However the anger was so palpable, Q began to shake despite his firm gaze and strong furrowed brows. Big emerald eyes looking right up into James' soul.

"Is this some way of payback? Some underhanded social upheaval?"

Mild confusion, "No, I thought if anyone would understand my actions. It would be you."

 James looks hesitantly questioningly, drawing back if only to take his hands off.

"Hardly."

"No?"

"..." James isn't amused, but his face would say the basic opposite.

"Oh, let's see? 'I'm not a good man' he says, remember? Yes, lovely thing morals and guilt, like either of us could choose these paths less traveled without sticking our skins directly into the fire and calling it a social event." The new Quartermaster steps closer, almost stepping on his toes.

Shock fills the agent, he remains calm as usual.

Gaze so completely locked, the world ebbed and disappeared around them into opaque soliloquy.

"Guilt, 007, all down to the guilt I'll never let go. Guilt that I... regardless of what you say or think, I hurt you. Scared you. The opposite of what you say is so profound. You're not a good man, but you're not a bad one either. I envy your resolve, unfortunately... I am not keen on being ruled and owned." Except when you touch me, push me, call me darling.

Q wraps his arms around himself defensively. "Can we just please be civil? Can we please make this smoother? Look you can do whatever in private but At least to our coworkers and boss or during missions? we need to seem professional... in the very least..." 

"Of course, I believe we can manage." Completely refined, curt, professional.

Q nods, biting at his lower lip, looks away as James turns to leave.

It happens like the cock of a gun, the slide of a pump action. The sound of heavy rattling lead. 

But it's in his head.

He turns and pushes Q against the wall once more. The brief fear in his eyes only followed quickly with heat as James kisses him with so much intensity Q feels as if his jaw will break. 

Instead he pushes back.

Licking into his mouth, pushing curled fists against 007's chest and pounding into a grip around jacket lapels.

Its teeth, it's dark, it's 'I'm so angry' it's 'please, don't stop.' 

To catch their breaths they just barely pull apart. Q is yet again, shaking, and James is intoxicated numb until finally he notices the tears. 

A few stripes of water along pale cheeks. 

James unravels, watching Q, really seeing this with the logic he has, the brutal honesty of the younger man. 

His feelings for him.

James doesn't know what to do, how to speak, what to say. Funnily enough, he's known as the one to be all of the above.

Today is not that day, as he gives a look of discontent before leaving just as fast as he arrived.

Q tidies up in the restroom, before returning to his duties and the little craft project on his desk.


	11. Chapter 11

He fumbled with the superglue he had made in the lab. Protective gloves and a plastic pick for application; Q had finished reading James' file the night before. Only setting him deeper and deeper into the depths of guilt.

Vesper.

How casually he'd used the name for that drink, how fluidly it displeased him to know. She was the provincial 'one who got away' and under dubious circumstances. 

He needs to focus, but he can't, not on one thing and especially a project to do with James.

Honestly for a moment he felt like a sodding unrequited lovesick teenager. But the kiss...

Q reaches to touch his own lips and doesn't because glue and gloves. Duh. 

Shaking off the memory, he was about to proceed when his line beeps; 009 is in need of assistance. So, Q moves the project aside on a different shelf so he can focus on his work.

* * *

James was watching new recruits in a dark window; he could see them and they could not see him. 

M enters the room, it was always fun to watch Tanner turn incredibly awkward.

"Well, I'll have you back on assignment soon." 

The agent nods a single indistinct thing, only prompting a similarly bland sort of countenance of his Boss.

"Q will be your handler."

No one would have caught it, not really, but M had the training to see how Bond adjusted his shoulders and made it look like soft stretch.

"007, Q isn't Vesper Lynd."

Silence in answer, "He's scarier and not nearly as naive. Today I updated your mission description and he took to footnotes on several of the files. All relevant and professional. But here we are and your tail raises like a freshly hosed cat at the slight mention... honestly what is so desperately wrong that you can't figure it out?"

James turns, brows clenched in mild confusion. "Beg your pardon?"

A deep sigh, "I shouldn't have to spell it out. Hell, I might, you probably don't even know half of the gossip and happenings around here."

In truth James knew well more than most would assume. He just hates gossip, which is funny because he's a spy. If anything he's learned to know all and keep his mouth shut. Words are a sharp tool to be used when absolutely necessary.

"Alec's on to his next escapade. Moneypenny is in a serious relationship, switching agents from point A to B... no surprise Alec has his damn paws all over our new quartermaster." A lighthearted chuckle.

There was nothing light hearted about how 007 froze up. "Outfit by 08:00 tomorrow, keep your wits about you."

The moment he is gone, James is making a beeline for Q's office. He catches the tail end of Q's lunch hour to see a blushing Quartermaster, and an annoying American leaning against his desk.

Instead of intrude he watches, close and curious. When out of the corner of his eye, a piece of newspaper holding familiar shards haphazardly placed in a pile. 

Whatever profound crap that made him steal the heap, also must have kept him from being detected.

When Q looks at him, it's as if he's looking at a person and not a tool for his bidding. Unnerving and thrilling as it was, terrifying best described it.

* * *

 

In Kyoto, he sleeps with a governors ex wife at a pleasure house and he's not even paying. She wanted him, and they're in her favorite room. 

Grasping for secrets? Easy. Confronted with the prospects of constantly speaking to Q? Not so.

"What's that?" He asks her, Yumiko, Yumi for short. Gesticulating to a vase in the corner. 

"So many questions, Mr.Bond..."

"You're so wise, it should come naturally for you."

"Flatterer."

James smiles, she gets the hint, "It is art, and also poetry. The vase before was created by a great artist, but many items broke during the war. Earthquakes, as well... it is remolded with gold and made whole again. A symbol that the broken pieces in our lives are only the beginning. We can make ourselves beautiful, our scars, beautiful."

Swallowing thickly, he smiles sheepishly to keep a light mood. "Such a poet, why ever did you end up here?"

She laughs, "If you're good at something, never do it for free."

A reply he saves for the best of answers, James kisses her. 

It feels stiff in all the wrong ways, tastes wrong, unfamiliar small hands against his chest.

When she pulls away, James smiles that debonair sort. Yet she looks thoughtful, "She must be important, for my ways to go so... unnoticed."

James plays it calm and confused, but she keeps tracing a finger around his chest. "It's a he." Hoping he could somehow stray the discussion from his actions and into his predilections. 

Surprising all the more, she isn't surprised. Smiling gently at the agent, "You are a man of many tastes, James Bond. He must be one of a kind, irreplaceable. I'm the one who distracts."

"This isn't my way of finalizing things..." Wanting to be clear, "We went our... separate ways." Why he confided in her even just a little bit unnerved him but someone having someone outside the situation made it all feel... better.

She nods, "Oh westerner men, always so easily read. It's eyes bigger than the moon and the uncertainty where to place them."

He tries not to look so confused, instead laughs at her humor. "Perhaps it is why we wore masks for fun for so many years."

A quirk of her lips, "We too wore masks, James, but it was only for the prospect of dying, killing."

"Similar, if you think about it."

It was her turn to seem curious. 

"We would wear them to kill ourselves. Be someone else for a week, remove our responsibilities and existences."

"Funny, I get the same feelings of you--" Stretching into a yawn that may have been self created but he didn't hold it against her. 

"Perhaps you should return to your rooms. I am very tired, and busy tomorrow of course." 

Oddly, relieved, he reaches down to kiss her palm and then her wrist. "Oyasumi."

Then he's off to go to his hotel, doing a sweep of the room and setting up his security systems. 

Four nearly undetectable cameras planted effortlessly in random locations later. He's settling on the sofa with a glass of scotch, flicking his ear piece in to call one certainly bewildered Quarternaster.

_"007? Is everything alright?"_

"I'm not sure, to be honest."

 ~~~~ _"Tracking location; will you need extraction?"_ A professional urgency that James couldn't help but smile at. So when he can hear the rapid pace of key strokes, James realizes he must help along the situation.  

He begins to unbutton his pressed dress shirt and slip his jacket off and over the sofa arm.

"Q, this isn't about the mission."

_"Oh..."_

~~~~The breathless tone to his little exclaimation made him smirk over the lip of his glass. Knowing very well his Quartermaster was watching him on live feed now.

The sound of clearing throat,  _"However can I assist you, 007?"_

"Have you read my file yet?"

The silence is deafening, but followed with a hum in the positive.

"Lovely."

_"Look, you told me to go ahead and so I did. It wasn't my finest hour, nor will it be my worst. What happened, in Venice, I can only imagine what it was like... what I would do if I--"_

"Say it. Don't stop. Just talk to me." James takes another sip, wishing he could drown in his voice or the liquor... one of the two.

A hesitant shaking breath later,  _"If I ever had to watch you--- and I just might. If I had to, I'm not sure I would ever forgive myself."_

"A little oversentimental Q, even for you." 007 teases and realizes that was poor judgment. 

"Q, I want to be there with you."

_"W-with me? How so, I'm--- it is broad daylight here 007. Don't be a cad."_

"I'm an arse... but I'm not lying. Not to you."

_"Well, I suppose you're better off than me I'm afraid."_

"You wear self depreciation awfully, almost as bad as those atrocious jumpers."

_"Ha bloody ha; perhaps there's another way I should behave? I can only apologize so much, hope you can trust me in whatever way you need necessary for this to... come together smoothly."_

He sounds so calm and yet resigned, 007 hates it so much. He wants to yell, or jump into a bull fight, scream into a pillow and instead he pulls out his gun to begin cocking and reloading it in repeated succession. 

"Just, be Q, anything but this--- scared sort I hear. Be open to a fault, sharp as a knife, blunt as a hammer and twice as pretty." 

Silence, so James continues.

"Have lunch or breakfast or a dinner in and some tea with me when I get back. I'll even buy you flowers, chocolate, wine, whatever your heart desires---"

 _"You--- are you drunk?"_ Awe stricken, he can hear Q's cuppa clatter gently against his desk.

 A humorous thought crosses over, James finishes his glass only to pour another.

"No, I won't be for another hour."

He always took a good measure time to even get drunk. So pleasantly buzzed was his element, Q's voice was his driving resolve. 

It's gone quiet, Q's lips make a sound to the mic.

James continues, "I want to be with you. I wan't what we had--- any part we can have. I can't be monogamous, my job, and I can't offer you anything else but the time I have."

The new and youngest quartermaster of MI6 let's out a sigh of air. James hears what he suspects are glasses being taken off and placed on his desk. 

****_"Can-- shit--- can we take it slow? On the personal things... the sex? The intimate things--"_

A twinkle in James eye, a glimmer of hope. "I can't promise you I won't try. You're rather irresistible." 

The muffled squawking over the phone only helps along the slow rumble of laughter in 007's chest. 

He can't wait to see his Q. 


	12. Chapter 12

It was like the lick of a whip, how quickly Bond felt. All his life he lived, loved, hard and fast all the way around. Deciding to not give up a career on the fast lane in order to prove if not patent the way of a gritty agent with all the moves.

Yet he's baffled by the moment, these feelings entirely. Unable to snap out of these relentlessly cold urges. Through hell and back just to feel whole again.

He broods into MI6 around 4 A.M to see if Q was there; he is, sleeping on a small loveseat with a cold cup of tea on the side table beside him.

James maneuvers around the cuppa to lean forward and tuck curls behind one of the exposed ears. Lift him up and into his arms, he weighs hardly a thing. 

He thinks, rearranging a skinny arm over so it didn't hang awkwardly over his own. 

Q wakes halfway to his apartment with a jump.

A gasp, shaking and holding the place where he was tased not so long ago.

"Q?" Normally he didn't feel guilt, but what a feeling it was in the midst of someone he cared about.

"It's alright, you're safe here, Q..." his voice softens incredibly and to the point the boffin looks at him as if he grew horns.

Eyes reflect calm in the rearview mirror.

"You're safe, here." He says blithely, attention on the traffic.

Not that it was terrible at this time of night. 

"I guess that just depends on perspective." Night light shadows glow and spread light on a boffin who'd been rearranging himself in the back seat. 

"What if I've been looking in the wrong direction?" James answers just as criptically. 

"No such thing. Just different distances, and all that..."

James smiles at that, just a small twitch of a thing.

"007..."

"James."

Q looks confused, clearing his throat, "James..." such a soft tone the agent desired to slam on his brakes and reach back for a kiss.

It would have to wait.

"Look, we had an arrangement, You and I?"

He begins without letting Q continue due to his long pause. Still silent, James continues.

"Truth be told, it's a stupid idea and it was from the beginning."

When he sees Q's eyes flutter shut in a split second emotion like devastation he halts the car and spins it into action.

Maneuvering the stick shift into a parking  spot and ignition off as if it were simple as breathing.

Turning in his seat, "I'm good at the stupid part, the fun, the noise. That's why I exist, that's my job, and I need you to know. It's everything, you'll never be that, never be Queen and Country..."

Q, who was rightfully startled sits up a bit, adjusting his glasses yet again in frustration.

"You act as if I'd join a serious organization without realizing this? Without embracing consequences on both ends. Freedom lost to both choices, all choices, and this the better of all?" A crooked sort of smile, sending shivers through James he barely attempts to hide. 

"Oh, 007, if this is about work, go ahead and educate me. But I'd rather have your  tongue down my throat and my cock up you're pretentious, cad, arse." He snips, sharp and indignant. He begins to straighten his jumper nervously, before James is descending upon him.

It's less of a kiss, more of a personal statement. If he could make something so abrasive and physical into something emotional and soulful? It was this kiss, one timeless piece to join the ages in fairytales and all the sorts madmen read.

"I'm not going to apologize." Bone quips. 

"I really, really, hate you right now." Spoken breathless and nearly at the same time.

"Same page then?" James' dangerous smile, and Q tilts his head placing his hand up to cup a chin so rugged he'd like to punch it and then himself; is this real?

Q tilts his head and kisses James back in response. Tongue in cheek, sort of occasion.

"Mmm, what book were we reading?" 

James huffs whatever laughter he has left in his dry bones.

"This isn't a joke."

"I won't hold my breath."

"Good, asphyxia is a terrible thing."

"Ha bloody ha...00--"

"James, just... James." 

The agent is soft once more, juxtapose.

Q leans into him, eyes wicked and burning behind lenses and tousseled hair.

Pushing James off of him to rearrange himself in the back seat.

"I'll think about it."

James blinks, trying to read the situation but Q laughs a short bark. Sharp and indignant, "Whisking me away, stealing and pawing at me like I'm a naive little waif creature for your own fancy." Rolling his eyes.

"James Bond, I want you more than any one should. But if you really want me, you'll have to wait. Take your time."

A look of disbelief, almost a double take. "What so you want me to court you?"

"As if, be a good sport will you? And take me home?" Crossing his legs, and boy did he have his Queen piece now.

The agent had no other choice, starting the engine and making his way to the Quartermaster's flat. 

Bugger all.


	13. Chapter 13

Their clothes come off in a soft storm, with fingers and nails scratching and feeling every surface. Recognition that they were here, finally where they fought to be.

Q was taking his new position very seriously.

That being directly underneath his favorite agent and loving every minute of it. In fact, he moaned and writhed like never before.

Less insincerity, more reality.

James grinds his hips into his at just the right angle. And the shuddering breath, like fresh mint in ones tea. 

Like cool wind on a sunny day.

Basking in the warms and freshness of it all.

"What light through yonder window breaks..." 

James, who had been suckling a solid line down his bare torso, breaks off for a laugh if anything.

"A sick cliche, you are."

"Mm. Maybe it just keeps people away."

Bonds brows raise, a hand up into thick messy curls.

"Do you need me to leave, then?"

A sly look, followed by a pout of epic proportions on one grumpy looking Quartermaster. 

"Rather not, you're more a bloody dog than a person anyway..."

"And yet you'd keep me? Even with the cats."

Q groans, "James do please, shut it, and get a move on..."

"Yes Dear." His agent jokes, and Q's laughter. Yes, what was it that it reminded him of?

Moaning at the taste of his skin, like eucalyptus from the lads shampoo. A hint of aftershave that he knew was far from cheap.

They're aligned, desperate for it, both of them. It begins to rain.

Ah, and there it is.

Precipitation palpitations, the sound of white noise petals against perfected transparent sand.

Like floating, out at sea, when landing comes and sweeps you up. Crashing.

A cry of ecstasy from beneath him.

He can't deny this.

Downpour. 


End file.
